We're Here Tonight and That's Enough
by Drowned-dreamer
Summary: Killian simply doesn't do caroling, not anymore. That's not going to stop his brother from trying to get him to serenade the beautiful waitress they just met. A bit of CS/Jones Brother holiday fluff! Two-shot
1. Chapter 1

**_Title: We're Here Tonight and That's Enough_**

 ** _Rating: T (for language)_**

 ** _Summary: Killian simply doesn't do caroling, not anymore. That's not going to stop his brother from trying to get him to serenade the beautiful waitress they just met. A bit of CS/Jones Brother holiday fluff!_**

 ** _Disclaimer: Don't own OUAT characters or any of the lyrics I've used in this story_**

 ** _A/N: I just wanted to do a quick little holiday fluff for all those lovely people out there who have taken the time to read, review, or message me about my fics! And a very big thank you to Whoknowsheregoes (for your wonderful suggestions and encouragement), Tutorgirlml (for the most thoughtful and amazing reviews), and Antipodes Ahoy (for your lovely thoughts on the Jones boys and OUAT storyline)—Thank you all so much, I hope you enjoy!  
_**

 ** _*The title comes from "Wonderful Christmastime" by Paul McCartney_**

* * *

"No."

"C'mon, li'l brother. Y'know y'want to," Liam slurred, tripping out of his stool and wobbling as he made a grab for the lacquered rail.

Despite the merry revelers all around them, Killian was not feeling particularly merry this holiday season. He had been getting quite nicely sloshed for the last two hours, and his brother had been attempting to cheer him up by matching him drink for drink. However, Liam and liquor were not the best combination. It tended to turn his older brother into a giant five-year-old.

"Absolutely not. And I'm not yer li'l brother," he reminded him, _again_ ; his accent thickening in direct correlation to the amount of alcohol in his system. "I'm yer _younger_ brother, you git." Turning his back on his brother, Killian downed his rum and signaled the barman for another. For some reason, though, the barman took his time coming over to refill the glass.

" _Killian_ , come on," the older Jones begged, going so far as to tug at Killian's black leather coat so that he was practically forced to turn around. "You're being a bore. Let's go caroling. It's Christmas Eve!"

"Liam, why do you always turn into a bloody showbiz diva when you get drunk?" Shoving his overly-clingy brother aside, he stood up, proud of the fact that he did so without the slightest waver in his balance, and drew himself up to full height. It was a move that he had employed since his suddenly growth spurt in his teens caused him to finally catch up to his older brother's taller frame. It was also a move that had only lasted about a year, after which Liam grew another couple inches and maintained the distance ever since.

"Because…" Liam began, tapping at his chest with one finger. The movement caused him to rock unsteadily on his feet once again. Killian clenched his fist and glared at the poking, but Liam's serious face made him simply roll his eyes. "…I'll tell you why."

Killian crossed his arms and quirked his brow, matching his brother's serious face. "I'm waiting."

Liam broke out into a smile, as if he had been trying to hold it back and no longer could. "Because… _'We're sim-ply hav-ing a won-der-ful Christ-mas-time_!'" He belted out, wrapping his heavy arms tightly around Killian's shoulders.

"Oh fuck off, you tosser!" Killian growled, throwing off Liam's out-slung arms.

Looking quite perplexed, Liam's smile faded and his glassy eyes turned upward. "Killian? Sing w'me, please?"

How could anyone expect to resist that? Still, he couldn't let Liam think that he'd gone soft. Not over this. "Not happening," Killian snapped, but one look at his brother's crestfallen face and all his resolve melted. "But if you want to make an arse of yerself, I won't stop you."

Liam beamed and quickly gathered up his coat and scarf, having to make several attempts to don both items in the way they were supposed to be worn. While he fumbled, Killian finished his last round, wishing he could have several more before he had agreed to this, and muttered, "Jus' so you know, you're not doing 'We Wish You a Happy Jones-mas' like you did last year. That was horrible. And embarrassing. And I still can't show my face 'round Will's place."

Liam grinned ear-to-ear, his blue eyes twinkling in the glow of the bar's neon sign, and pulled at Killian's arms again. He ushered them both out of the pub before Killian had a chance to even get his own coat on fully and into the densely snow-covered street. The cold instantly turned their breath to fog and their skin to ice and suddenly Killian was rethinking this whole idea.

 _Why couldn't they just stay in the damn pub and sing? Was there a rule about that in Boston? Probably._ Though they hadn't been in Boston long, the Jones brothers had become enamored of the city, especially when the snow fell thick and heavy like it was now. Well, except for when they were traipsing around in the snow like feckin' idiots. But it was truly beautiful and vastly different to the drizzly winters of their London youth, and despite his general moodiness (and coldness), Killian found himself mesmerized by the steady falling of the huge, puffy flakes.

Boston was a chance for both men to start over; Liam after his naval injury left him with shoddy knees and severe PTSD and Killian after losing his fiancé to rare heart disease just a little over a year ago. Both men had decided to cut their losses and make a break for the states where no one knew of their tragic upbringing and more recent setbacks. Liam had taken a job with in the harbor master's office and was fitting in nicely. Killian, on the other hand, had yet to find a career suited to his unique temperament. After all, how many people wanted to hire an ex-musician whose only real talent was for getting into trouble?

As the snow continued powdering the streets, Killian followed after his bumbling brother, flinching every time he ran into a passing stranger and greeted them with an overly enthusiastic 'Happy Christmas!' At least he hadn't begun singing. Yet.

Killian sighed and shook off the snow from his boots. The cuffs of his jeans were already soaked and freezing and his wool pea-coat wasn't doing nearly enough to keep out the cold. Already his lips were chapped and nose was numb. At still, his idiot brother continued to drag him along, heading for god-knows-where.

 _Shit_ , he thought as he suddenly looked up. The world around them was nothing but a foggy blur of grey and black and it registered for the first time that he had no bloody clue where they were.

"Liam!" Killian shouted, running up to his brother and pulling him to a halt.

"Kill'n, whaz wrong w'you?" He slurred angrily.

"You wanker! Look around." Killian waved his hand through the air, gesturing to the dark and empty street. The snow had turned the world around them into a featureless blur of vaguely car-shaped hills and frost _-_ covered storefronts. All the shops were dark and the streets unpassable, waiting to be plowed.

Looking around, Liam shot a confused glare at his brother and shrugged. "Wha?"

"Look. Around." Killian growled, his jaw clenching. He took placed both hands on his brother's shoulders and spun him in a circle. "See anything?"

"No, jus' snow. And you, _Captain Scrooge_ ," Liam answered, merrily bopping him on the nose.

"Oh, feck off," Killian snapped, shoving his brother into a snow-covered bin. Or what looked like a bin. He couldn't be certain. "Notice anything familiar?"

"No." Liam laughed, flicking the snowflakes from his navy coat. A few flakes were caught in his scruff and with amount dusted among his curls, he looked a bit like one of those terrible mall Santas.

"My point exactly," Killian scoffed pointedly. "I've no bloody clue where we are."

"Oh." He huffed, finally catching onto his brother's surly mood. "Well…. Bollocks." He threw his hands up and immediately began chuckling.

The ire quickly dissipating under Liam's unrelenting cheerfulness, Killian softened and added, "I'm freezing my tits off. Let's just get a cab and go home." The fact that there hadn't been any cars on the roads was not entirely lost on him.

The mention of 'going home' only seemed to only spur on Liam's determination. He grabbed his brother around the neck, practically choking him, while Killian reached around and yanked at the curls on Liam's head to pull him off, scuffling around in the snow like children. It was a familiar routine of brotherly bonding that they always reverted to whenever they spent any amount of time together. Which was all the time. "Oh, c'mon, li'l brother. The night is young! And I want to sing," he pleaded, letting go of his hold.

"You can't sing to save your soul and you know it," Killian snarked, straightening out his clothing and running a hand through his thorough mussed hair. At least Liam's had fared worse. His curls were now sticking out in all directions and the blue and white striped scarf was hanging round his neck by only one end.

For some reason, though, there was an immediate shift in Liam's demeanor. It was like all of his happiness suddenly evaporated. His voice grew soft, and his eyes a bit misty. "You used to love to sing, Killian. Your voice was so…" The words drifted away, getting lost amidst the fog and dark.

Killian stilled, his whole body going rigid. He had no idea how to respond. True, he did love to sing, and he was good at it, but after losing Milah, he couldn't bring himself to continue with his music. The band had been their dream together, and without her, his heart just wasn't into the music anymore. None of that explained what Liam was getting so emotional about, though. His older brother had been never seemed overly thrilled that Killian chose to pursue a career in music anyway, always telling him that someday he'd have to wise up and get a real job. But as Killian thought about it, he remembered that despite all his talk, Liam had come to every gig he could, only missing when he was on deployment.

There was a slight hoarseness in his throat that he couldn't quite account for. "Now I know you're taking the piss. You never liked my singing," Killian said.

"Did too," Liam replied softly. Killian could only stare back as the silence became stifling. Then Liam scratched behind his ear, and gave him a half-smile as he began walking. "Jus' couldn't let that ego of yours get any bigger," he teased.

"Oi, I'll show you big!" Killian called out, glad to have an excuse to move past wherever this conversation was heading.

Liam was already halfway down the block, heading determinedly for the only building with lights still blazing. _Granny's Diner_ , the sign read, the glow coloring the snow in shades of red and pink. Killian heaved a sigh of relief at the thought of _warmth_ and _food_ , and followed after Liam who was already inside.

However, the moment he entered the diner, Killian nearly turned right back around to take his chances in the snow. A wave of loud, discordant singing assaulted him as his eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescent lights. Instantly, he felt his cheeks flush, and not just with the warmth of the room.

His git of a brother was leaning heavily against the back counter, serenading a very shocked waitress with strains of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear."

Approaching with caution, Killian mentally prepared a handful of apologies and had them ready on the tip of his tongue. But that was until he got his first real glimpse at the woman Liam pestering, and the words left him.

She was beautiful. Absolutely stunning. Her green eyes were wide with shock, but her mouth already curving up into an amused smile. She was watching Liam with her arms crossed over her chest, but her posture indicated she was less annoyed than she seemed. However, as he approached, her demeanor seemed to change and he didn't fail to notice the way her eyes widened even more and her hands dug into her arms. Now, she looked terrified, hardly even able to meet his gaze. _Of course she's scared,_ he thought. _Two men and her practically alone in an empty diner in the middle of the night, who wouldn't be_? And it surely didn't help that they were both well and truly sloshed.

Trying not to frighten her, Killian smiled lightly and held out his hands, trying to shout over his brother's loud, off-key voice. "Sorry, lass. He's just a bit pissed and has got it into his idiotic head that he wanted to go caroling. Just let him finish and we'll be out of your hair shortly."

She watched him carefully, eyes darting briefly between the two of them as if trying to see if he was telling the truth or not. A moment later, she must have decided he was as her arms dropped to her side and she shrugged. "It's fine," she answered, biting her bottom lip, and suddenly finding the glass-encased pies required her immediate attention. "He's not hurting anything. No one's here except me and the cook, Leroy. Let him sing."

Having forgotten all the words past the chorus, Liam had already moved on to "Deck the Halls." Killian groaned as he began to also throw in some questionable dance moves in time with the lyrics.

 _"Deck the halls with bits of holly,  
Fa la la la la, la la la la!"_

Killian rolled his eyes and hit his head on the counter when Liam tripped over the leg of one of the tables, causing the salt-and-pepper shakers to rattle. After a moment, he cautiously lifted his head and looked at the gorgeous blonde waitress. Her eyes darted back towards Liam, as if she had been caught staring at him. He expected to see more worry or anger on her face, but she was actually sort-of smiling. There was no way this wasn't making her want to run away screaming. Or call the police. "Are you sure about that, lass?"

 _"Follow me in merry measure,  
Fa la la la la, la la la la.  
While I tell of Yule tide treasure,"_

(At this point, Liam growled and grumbled something about pirates, forgetting completely about the last part of the lyric and moving on to "Jingle Bells.")

She shrugged, closing her eyes for a moment as if mentally debating something. Finally, she turned to look at him fully and his breath nearly stopped when she gave him a full smile. "Yeah, why not?"

 _God, she was so beautiful._

Killian felt his skin began to heat up, and he found himself offering her a genuine smile in return. Suddenly, the noises his brother was making faded away into the background and all he could see was her. Who was this woman? She was like a beacon of light in a cold, dark world. He found himself feeling completely and totally fascinated by her. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know _everything_. But when he looked up, she was closing him off again, the tight line of her mouth giving away her nervousness. Scrambling for anything to help dissipate the sudden tension, he fell back on his flirtatiousness and charm. "Because my brother is a bloody wanker who can't carry a tune? Are you sure you're willing to take the chance that you might be deaf by the time he stops?"

"I can look after myself," she stated resolutely and he could tell by the way she said it that it wasn't a throwaway saying. _Ah, she was a tough lass, no doubt_. "Besides, with it being a holiday and the mountain of snow out there, I doubt anyone else will come in. Laughing at your brother seems to be a great way to pass the time."

"Aye, it is that," he agreed. "He's a constant source of amusement, I assure you. I'm Killian Jones, by the way. And that wailing banshee is Liam," he added with a cock of his thumb.

She bit her lip, the frown deepening for a second and Killian suddenly found that he had forgotten how to breathe at all. Then, she let out a little sigh and looked him straight in the eye. "Emma Swan," she replied.

* * *

 **A/N- Part two coming soon! Oh, and reviews make the best holiday gifts!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

What was the big deal about Christmas, anyway?

It had never really bothered Emma to work on this day. After all, it was a holiday for families; something Emma had never been a part of. The last thing she wanted was to spend the hours leading up to the big day alone, thinking about how she didn't have anyone to celebrate the day with. Working on Christmas, she discovered, was typically a decent distraction from her wallowing.

So what if she was a Grinch and glared at anyone who dared to wish her a 'Happy Holiday'? She had orders to fill, things to clean and organize, drinks to serve, and money to make. She didn't need any of that holiday bullshit in her life.

This year, however, everything was different. Christmas couldn't come fast enough, and she found herself actually looking forward to it and all that went with it, even letting herself get caught up in the so-called holiday spirit. And it was all because this year, she had a family to spend it with.

She had _her son_ to spend it with.

True, it had only been a few months since she had been in Henry's life (ever since he had begged his adopted mother, Regina, to allow him to meet his birth mother, and out of the blue he had shown up at her door), but that hardly mattered. Henry was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

And while the ensuing months had been a blur of guilt and long-buried emotions (How does a person deal with re-connecting with son they gave up for adoption because they were in prison at the time and they had been an orphan themselves and had no idea how to be a parent? Google didn't have those answers. She should know, she checked.), it had also been the happiest she had ever been. Though it took a while to adjust to being a mother, and despite all her misgivings, she was gradually beginning to feel like she a part of something. That she had someone who wanted her and wouldn't give up on her.

However, there were times (too many times) that she doubted herself; worried that somehow she'd end up letting him down. But Henry was so full of hope and optimism, it must be wearing off on her because, _damn it_ , she was really starting to get into this whole holiday thing. There were lights strung up around her apartment, a small plastic tree with Marvel and Disney ornaments (that Henry had helped her pick out), a couple stocking hanging up on her window sill, and a fridge full of holiday treats. It was more than she had ever dreamed she could have.

However, it didn't take long before her fears resurfaced. After all, this was CHRISTMAS, the big one, the holiday every kid dreams about and looks forward to all year long. It was also a holiday Emma had no real experience with. She grew up in orphanages and group homes. A Merry Christmas was something that happened to other people. What if she messed it up? What if she didn't get it right?

So, of course, in the weeks leading up to the big day, she became more and more nervous and worried and excited and hopeful. It got to the point where she could barely sleep. Too many doubts nagged at her, too many old fears played havoc with her mind. Henry would be coming over in a few hours time, and to say she had been freaking out was putting it mildly. So, at nine, she called Granny and begged to be able to work the night shift, even though she had previously asked for it off. Ruby was only too happy to switch with her, eager to go out and make merry all night long. And Emma was grateful for what she thought would be the perfect distraction.

Only, like always, things didn't go as planned. In years past, the diner was usually busy all night with others just like her who had no real family, or who didn't wish to be around them. Sure, there were the occasional night-owl shoppers who were just stopping by after picking up all their last-minute Christmas gifts, but for the most part, it was just a steady stream of lonely people who didn't judge her for having nothing better to do.)

However, this Christmas Eve, the snow had fallen so thick and heavy, the plows hadn't yet made it to this side of town, and she had been without customers for hours. There was only so many times she could clean the table tops and fill the salt and pepper shakers without going out of her damned mind.

So much for a distraction.

Therefore, when a cold breeze brought in a very drunk and boisterous (not to mention handsome) British import singing like he was trying out for _The Voice_ , Emma's normal cynicism was conspicuously absent. Besides, she had dealt with her fair share of drunks, and having someone so easy on the eyes sing to her wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to her. So what if the man's singing was awful? At least he seemed truly happy and enthusiastic about it. What was the harm in that?

And then in walked the other one; dark hair dusted with snow, black coat and jeans, and—oh, god—eyes so blue they put the sky to shame, and she knew precisely what the harm in it was. Especially when he also had fucking dimples tucked into his scruff and cheeks that colored a soft pink when he smiled at her in apology.

 _This was so very, very bad._

Or maybe she had just fallen asleep at the counter and begun dreaming about her super-secret, x-rated Christmas wish.

Before she could pinch herself, she was shaken out of her stupor by the taller, curlier-haired one singing a slurred refrain of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear," while giving her a wink that should have been illegal in any country. So was so flustered that she nearly missed the other one's "Sorry, lass."

And, of course, she would do something monumentally stupid like turning to look at him. _Damn_. _This close, he was even more handsome_ , she sighed inwardly as he flashed her a devastating smile. This was simply unfair. One hot guy she could handle, but two? And in black leather…with an earring! Fuck her life!

Realizing she had missed the rest of his speech, she scolded herself and did what she did best. She'd pretended to be annoyed and angry and hopefully he'd just figure out she was too much trouble and leave her alone. But another quick glance at him made her wonder if it would really be that simple. Digging her nails into her arms to steady herself and to keep them from doing something stupid like reaching across the counter and latching hold of what looked to be a killer set of biceps, she shrugged in her most aloof manner. "It's fine."

Truth was, it was fine. Even with the flash of heat deep in her belly at the sight of the man's smile, she found that she didn't mind the presence of either one in any way. What the hell was wrong with her? Where was that feeling of being suffocated and itchy she was so used to? Why wasn't she running for the hills? Emma Swan didn't do relationships and she didn't do complicated. Just because she was feeling a bit _merry_ and wanting to have a good time didn't mean she was ready for whatever that look he was giving her was. It was a look that just breathed danger. Especially to her heart.

Sure, she was nervous and could barely look the guy in eye as he introduced himself and his brother, but there was something about the way the two of them interacted that made her feel lighter than she had in ages. It made her want to stay and smile and forget about her fears for _one damn night_ and just be… _happy_.

So that's exactly what she did.

God, all this Christmas spirit crap really was starting to get to her.

Over the random bursts of Liam's singing, she and Killian fell quickly into an easy banter. It was so strange how natural it felt to talk to him. Sure, he flirted like crazy and had a massive ego, but he also tried to make her laugh even though she did her best not to. And it was impossible not to smile as he grumbled about his brother flubbing the lyrics or the way he drunkenly bumbled into the tables. Within moments, she realized she really didn't want to fight it anyway, and just went with it. _Laughing all the way._

Between Liam's sonic outbursts, Killian managed to convince his brother that it was 'bad form' to sit at a diner all night and not eat. Part of her wondered if maybe the food would sober them up and send them on their way, and part of her wondered why she was so bothered by that thought. However, after their food arrived, neither man seemed to be any rush to leave. They even shared their onion rings and fries with her as she sipped her own hot chocolate, and she wondered if the warmth she was feeling in her chest was from the drink or from something else.

As soon as they were finished, Liam resumed his merrymaking, while Killian sat at the counter and continued to talk. Somewhere between "Frosty the Snowman" and "All I Want for Christmas," she learned about their life in England and about their experiences so far in Boston. She shared horror stories of past Christmases at the diner, but promised the boys that Liam's drunken caroling was the new top of the list.

She also managed to wrangle out of Killian that the reason they were gracing her with their presence was because they were new to the city and had lost their way home in all that snow. At this point, a hilarious shouting match over whose fault it was that they were lost ensued between the brothers and Emma teased that her ten-year-old son was more mature than either of the men. Neither flinched at the mention of her kid, and when Killian gave her a warm, understanding look, she flushed and smacked his arm.

Faking a look of hurt, he rubbed his arm, saying, "Oy, Swan! You have a hell of a swing, there. A man might feel intimidated."

"Then he should stop eating so many onion rings and go to the gym once in a while," she teased, slapping him lightly once more.

He cocked a brow at her, and licked his lips. A second later, he ran his hands down his torso, her eyes immediately following their descent. "I'll have you know, Swan, that this superior physique was the result of long hours of work and dedication. Whereas my brother's is merely a result of some sort of freakish genetic mutation. Honestly, there have been scientists calling for ages trying to figure out how someone so abhorrent even exists."

She hummed to herself, biting her lip to keep from grinning. "I'm not sure that's the reason they want to study him, Jones. I'm pretty sure they want to clone him to create a race of superior beings, since he's clearly the most perfect male specimen on the planet."

" _Swan_ ," he growled menacingly. She began to giggle at the kicked puppy look he was giving her. "You're just lucky Liam's off his nut or I'd never, _ever,_ live this conversation down and believe me, I'd make you pay for your dishonesty and defamation of my character."

Emma could feel the heat from his stare burning down her body. "Oh yeah? You'll make me pay, huh? How are you going to do th—"

She was just starting to think that this might be the most fun she'd had in ages, when Liam called out from the other side of the diner. "Sing with me, brother! I know you know the lyrics to 'All I Want for Christmas Is You'. You used to sing it all the time."

It was like someone had doused him in a bucket of ice. The flirtatious looks he was throwing at her turned into a look of absolute horror. For a moment, Emma worried he might either flee the diner or deck his brother. All night she had been wondering why he never joined in singing with his brother, but she had thought it was because he was embarrassed by his voice or something. Regardless, she knew better than to pry. But this reaction seemed far deeper than a little bit of stage fright.

"I can't," was all he managed to say as he stood up and moved to a booth in the corner.

Emma found herself torn between wanting to give him space and dying of curiosity. Eventually, the curiosity won out, and she went after him. Or maybe it wasn't really curiosity. Maybe it was because she knew that look; the look of grief and deep, deep heartache-the kind that left permanent scars. _Oh god, did she know that look._ In fact, she wore that look whenever anyone asked about her past, or more specifically, her love life ( _Fuck you, Neal. You and your stupid watches_ ). She knew what it meant to have that look in your eyes.

Sitting down across from him without saying a word, Emma slipped her hand into his. Killian looked down at it and then up at her with a strange intensity that she couldn't read. Or maybe she did. Either way, she was already wondering why she took his hand, even though the rough callouses felt so warm and nice against her own that she was having a difficult time finding a reason to pull away.

Thankfully, Liam dropped down in the seat next to them, obviously aware that he had said something terribly wrong, and Killian abruptly pulled his hand away from hers. It left her feeling oddly cold and empty. When she looked at him, though, he was looking out the snow falling out the window.

Liam leaned forward, like he wanted to say something to his brother, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he turned to her with a plastered-on smile and teasing note in his voice. "I'll bet Emma knows some songs, then," he coaxed while his eyes silently begged her to help him win his brother back.

She gave him a tiny nod and managed a loud (and only slightly fake) laugh as she threw a napkin in his direction. "Emma does. That doesn't mean she is going to make a complete fool of herself by singing any them. Especially not with you. We'd sound like a couple of stuck pigs."

Liam dropped his jaw open and rolled his eyes, as if he was offended by her commentary on his singing. ( _God, they really were brothers,_ she thought.) He huffed and stood up, shooting her a wink to let her know he wasn't really, and left the two of them alone again.

When she turned back, Killian was looking at her with those same intense blue eyes. "I'll bet you have a lovely singing voice, Swan."

She swallowed hard, her face feeling hot. "Well, I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she teased, attempting to get back to whatever they had been doing earlier. Only now, there was something that felt more like a live wire running between them. Something infinitely more dangerous.

Killian blinked, then a slow, salacious smirk spread over his face. "No need to stand on ceremony, love. I'll be happy to show you whatever you wish."

 _When did it get so hot in here? Maybe she should turn down the heat. Or open the door and let some ice in. Or just throw herself into a snow bank. Yeah. That'd work._

"I meant the singing, Jones."

The smile drifted away as his eyes fluttered closed and his shoulders collapsed. "I… I can't, Emma. I'm sorry."

 _Shit, shit, shit. Way to stick your foot in it, Emma_. She opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could get a sound out, she was suddenly being whisked away and twirled about by a pair of (very) strong arms. Liam was singing "Good King Wenceslas" and doing a fairly decent waltz with her around the tables, managing to not hit her against a single one.

As she spun round, she saw Killian watching closely with his brow furrowed. She was dying to know what he was thinking about, but couldn't seem to break free of Liam's grasp. She looked back up to the man who held her, and just after he sang about the snow being 'nice and crisp and even,' gave her a tiny wink instead, and whispered, "It's been a long time since I've seen my brother look as happy as he has tonight, lass. Thank you."

"What for?" She asked.

He grinned at her, and just began singing again.

Not for the first time, she wondered how drunk the elder Jones truly was.

As the song ended, Emma found herself in a new pair of arms. Liam had moved on to a slower-paced rendition of "White Christmas" (which he sang flawlessly) as Killian twirled her around in smooth circles. He was light on his feet and much more smooth than his brother, but there was something about the heat from his hands on her back, the heady smell of his cologne, and that intense look he kept giving her that had her literally sprinting away the moment the dance ended.

 _Too much_ , she thought. _All too much. I can't do this._

For the better part of a quarter hour, she hid out in the back with Leroy (who was watching Christmas movies on a tiny TV) before he gruffly told her she was being ridiculous and forced her to go back out front. In no uncertain terms, he reminded her that it was her job to watch the diner and make sure nothing got stolen or whatever-especially if she was going to continue to let those two drunken fools keep hanging around and making a ruckus.

The Jones brothers were deep into some sort of discussion when she emerged and Emma couldn't help but feel like it had been about her. As soon as she approached them, however, they immediately started bickering like children again about the best Christmas movie- _"Die Hard. Hands down." "You only pick that because it's the only Christmas movie you've seen." "No, I pick it because Bruce Willis is a badass and the movie is amazing, little brother." "Sometimes I think you spent too much time in the Navy. They've clearly warped you. And it's_ younger _brother, you git." "Emma, you strike me as admiring the works of Bruce Willis. Will you please tell my baby brother that Die Hard is the greatest Christmas movie of all time?" "Swan, please tell my clearly senile older brother to kiss my arse."_ -as if nothing had changed. The ease and familiarity of it all made her ache deeply in her chest. Maybe she hadn't screwed everything up. Maybe it wasn't too late.

Killian caught her eye and he gave her a soft grin, scratching behind his ear before turning back to snipe at his brother. That was all it took, and she knew with utter surety that he understood.

For the first time that night, Emma realized she wanted to be a part of something with these two, and not just for tonight, either. It really freaked her out, because Emma knew that no one ever stayed. Every one abandoned her. And yet, there was an instant connection with both Jones boys that she couldn't deny. Like she had become a part of their little family.

She supposed there could be worse families to belong to. Even with the way they would shout insults and mock wrestle every five seconds, there was no mistaking the affection they had for one another. At times, it made her feel a bit wistful that she never had any close siblings (or any family at all, really) growing up. But she couldn't begrudge the boy's their bond; not when it seemed to bring them so much joy.

"Hello, love." Killian said breathlessly, leaning over the counter to catch his breath as his brother collapsed into a booth at the far end of the diner. They had been arm wrestling each other for the better part of a half-an-hour with no clear winner. "Sick of us yet?"

"Don't worry. When you've outlived your entertainment value, I'll toss you outside and turn you both into snowmen."

"I knew we were growing on you," he replied, the grin spreading across his face.

"Eh," she sighed, "you'll do, but only because there's no one else here to keep me from strangling myself with the tinsel."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to try harder to keep you suitably diverted," he said while his tongue did something sinful against his teeth.

Again, the electricity rippled through the air. She swallowed hard and clutched the cleaning rag she was holding even tighter. His eyes darkened and immediately trailed downward with the movement landing on her lips when she licked them. There was a thickness to the air around them, and for a second, she felt herself leaning forward as he was leaning forward…

"Go'Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, le'nothing you display!" Liam bellowed. His words were all running together as his energy began flagging.

Emma flew backwards with a laugh, while Killian rolled his eyes and groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gave Emma an apologetic look and she reached out and patted his arm, the tension broken. She was glad for it, even if part of her (a really big part of her) wanted to see what would have happened if Liam hadn't interrupted them.

Eventually, Liam's mumbled singing faded away as he collapsed into a booth and fell asleep. Neither of them even noticed, they were far too involved in their own world. At first, they shared the same easy conversations they'd been having all night, but soon enough, they were discussing personal matters, the kind which she never talked about to anyone. Ever. It was all so easy with Killian; like they had been friends for ages.

When she found herself opening up about her son and her feelings about being a mother, he listened to her with a depth of understanding that was shocking. He told her about growing up without a mother and how his father had abandoned them, leaving Liam to look after him. It made sense, then, the bond that she had seen between the two Joneses. They were all they had in the world. She could relate. All she had was Henry. From that, it was easy to tell him about being an orphan, about Neal and prison and being abandoned over and over again.

He told her about Milah and about his dream to become a singer. He told her of meeting Milah, and how they fell for each other instantly. He told her of their band, "The Fortune Hunters" and how he would write songs and sing them for her on stage and how she would play for him, and how, for a brief time, everything was perfect. Until it wasn't, and the heart defect that killed her struck so suddenly, she barely got out 'I love you,' before she was gone and his world was shattered.

"Why don't you sing anymore, Killian?" She asked, already sensing the answer to that question.

He took a deep breath, his fingers tracing small loops around the table top. "When Milah died, so did the music."

Struck by an impulse, she reached out and took his hand again. "Do you miss it, though?"

"Aye, I miss it," he confessed, and she found herself drowning once more in those soulful blue eyes that were always so focused on her.

Before either of them realized it, the sun was already coming up. It was Christmas Day, and suddenly Emma felt nervous at what all had transpired that night.

She should run. She had Henry to think about now, and it was just what she did. It was what kept her safe.

But she didn't want to, and the thought of never seeing either of the Jones boys again tore her heart to pieces

Killian, meanwhile, felt a stirring in his heart that had been noticeably absent for far too long. He looked back over his shoulder. Liam was still passed out in a booth, snoring loudly with his legs propped haphazardly in the air. He chuckled as he felt a rush of tender affection for his brother. The tosser had sang himself hoarse trying to keep Emma and him in good spirits. He also didn't fail to notice how his brother had kept trying to push him towards Emma all night. Liam Jones was about as subtle as a brick to the head.

It hit him then that he didn't want this night with Emma to end, and that maybe it didn't have to. All they had to do was take a chance. And he knew that's what he wanted. A chance to be part of something again. A chance with Emma Swan.

He turned back around, wanting to tell her about his realization, only to be met by the sight of her gathering her coat and purse from the back. Her knit beanie was already snugged down over her ears, and if his heart wasn't aching so badly at the sight, he would have said she looked adorable.

"You're leaving?" He choked out instead.

"Yeah," Emma answered softly. She circled around the counter, clutching the coat tightly in her arms like a shield. "Shift's almost up, and I have to get some sleep in before I meet up with Henry."

"Oh," he replied lamely. _You bloody idiot,_ he scolded himself, _it's Christmas and she's getting to spend it with her son for the first time. That's far more important than you chatting her up._ "Of course, love. I'm sure you want to be alert for your time with your son."

He had noticed earlier how her green eyes softened into a mellow jade when she spoke about her son and now was no exception. He wanted to drown in them. "Yeah. He's a really great kid, but, man, does he have a lot of energy," she huffed.

She was so close to him, he couldn't help the way his hand reached up of its own accord and tucked a loose curl back into her wooly hat. Her eyes followed the movement closely. "I bet he takes after you in that regard."

"Killian…" she started, her chest rising and falling rapidly, as she watched his hand return back to his side. "Thanks for keeping me company."

"T'was no bother at all," he replied easily, his thumb tracing over the tips of his fingers as if he could replay the softness of her hair on his skin. "I should be the one thanking you for not just kicking us out on our sorry arses the second Liam opened his mouth."

"No," she stated, suddenly placing her hand on his arm. "I really had a good time. One of the best Christmas's I can remember. And tell Liam thank you, too."

"Absolutely," he agreed quietly, almost whispering. She was so close and smelled so heavenly, he longed to just grab her in his arms and kiss her passionately.

 _Gods, it couldn't end like this!_ Not after what they shared. And she was looking at him like she didn't really want to leave either. His heart raced and he knew that this was it. If he was unwilling to fight for what he wanted, then he would most assuredly deserve what he got.

"Emma. I…I really enjoyed myself as well. And I'd really hate for this to be the last time we spoke to each other."

"Killian, I—" she began, taking a step back, those walls she had been slowly lowering for him all night now covering her features.

 _What had happened? What had changed?_ "Just your number, Swan. That's all I'm asking for."

"I don't…I can't…" she shook her head, shutting him out once more. However, there seemed to be an internal struggle going on behind those wondrous green eyes of hers.

 _Come on, love. Take a leap of faith._

Didn't she know that it was every bit as hard to open himself up to the possibility of love as it was for her? But he knew he didn't want to let his heart grow cold and lifeless, not now that she made it beat again. He was not going to allow whatever this connection was between them to die out before it even began. All he had to do was make her see it, too.

He took a step towards her and when she didn't retreat, he took it as a good sign. Cautiously, he lifted his hand to touch her cheek, the thumb stroking over the pink-tinged apple and down to her jaw. "Emma, I know you're scared. I am too," he studied her, noticing how her eyes grew darker and less wild as he continued to brush across her cheek. He took another step closer, bringing his body in direct contact with hers. "I know there's something here, love, and I think you feel it but you're too scared to take a chance that you might be wrong about me. But that's all I'm asking for. A chance. Come on, Swan. What do you say?"

His heart thudded against his chest while he waited for her reply. He was positive he would be met with another rejection, positive that it was over. So he was completely thrown when she closed her eyes tightly, clenched her fist, and blurted, "A song."

"What?"

Her eyes opened, and he could see a fiery determination behind them that nearly left him breathless. "That's what it will take to get my number." She pivoted, placing her coat on a stool behind her and turned back to him with an arch look like a princess making a royal decree. "I require you to sing one Christmas carol." Bringing her hand up to stroke the V of his shirt, she added tenderly as if in afterthought, "If I have to take a chance, so do you."

 _Bloody hell. She was a tough lass_. Forget breaking down his defenses, she barreled her way through them like a wrecking ball. But he knew she was right. How could he claim to want to take a chance with her while still holding on to the ghosts of his past.

He knew what he had to do.

Still watching her, he began to sing; softly, slowly, then growing louder as his fears fell away underneath her burning gaze.

 _"Have yourself a merry little Christmas,  
Let your heart be light  
From now on,  
our troubles will be out of sight." _

Emma had never heard such a voice. It was deep and clear and it stole her breath away. She stood transfixed, watching him as he closed his eyes and lost himself in the music.

 _"Have yourself a merry little Christmas,  
Make the Yule-tide gay,  
From now on,  
our troubles will be miles away."_

As he sang, memories washed over her. Happy memories, long buried and forgotten: _She was three and she awoke at dawn, racing out of her room at the foster home to see if Santa had brought her anything. And he had. Under the tree was a pile of gifts all addressed to her. She was twelve and Ingrid had made her favorite pancakes for breakfast and all the foster kids gathered around the table, laughing and talking about what they had gotten for Christmas. She was eighteen and Neal had suggested they go ice skating at the park. She was terrible at it and she kept falling down and dragging him with her, but neither of them could stop laughing._

 _"Here we are as in olden days,  
Happy golden days of yore.  
Faithful friends who are dear to us  
Gather near to us once more." _

And it was like, for the first time, she saw the memories as just that…memories. They weren't painful reminders of a scarred past, they were just happy moments free of their burden and sadness. They didn't hurt to remember. Not with Killian's beautiful voice soothing the ache of her soul.

Still clutching at his shirt, her other hand reached down for his needing it to steady herself. His eyes flew open; a dazzling blue mirroring the early morning sky and she was transfixed. He didn't stop singing, but it was like he held her heart in his hand and was slowly coaxing it back to life.

 _"Through the years  
We all will be together,  
If the Fates allow  
Hang a shining star  
upon the highest bough.  
And have yourself  
A merry little Christmas now."_

As the last refrain echoed in the quiet, empty diner, Liam Jones lifted his head and smiled at the sight before him. His brother and Emma were locked together tightly, hands in each other's hair, and their lips fused together in a very heated kiss. The kind of passionate, earth-shattering kind of kiss that changed a person's whole life around.

Also, the kind of kiss that didn't need to be spied on, especially by an older brother.

Instead, he laid his head back down and stared up at the ceiling. Suddenly, a huge smile broke out over his face as he crossed his arms and chuckled silently to himself.

 _Drunken Christmas caroling might turn out to best idea he's had yet._

…..

 **A/N- There you have it. The end. I didn't quite make it on Christmas Day like I wanted, but I hope it keeps you warm and toasty all the same. Happy Holidays, everybody!**

 **"Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." Lyrics by Ralph Blane.**

 **Don't forget reviews make wonderful gifts, too** **J**


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